Closure
by Archangel-dare
Summary: "You have a son, a 9-year-old son?" Laurel glanced at the boy sleeping on the couch. Oliver had called her over to tell her about William before she found out from anyone else; he owed her that much. INSPIRED BY THE FLASH EPISODE 2X08 TEASER TRAILER.


A/N: As said in the summary, this story based on the Flash episode 2x08 trailer which deals with Oliver's 9-year-old son William (different from Oliver's son in the comics)

* * *

She was going to vomit. She couldn't hold it in. She was going blow chunks all over his and Felicity's kitchen island. Or even worse than throwing up, she was going to relapse and reach for a bottle or pill.

' _Stay calm, Laurel. Don't risk all the progress you've made.'_ Rage and illness battled for dominance in her gut. She wanted to scream, but she forced her lungs to expand and finally take a deep breath. She clenched her fists in an attempt to keep from striking out at him. It wasn't his fault she had been so **stupid**. It wasn't his fault that she had fallen in love with her expectations of him. It wasn't his fault that she had built up their whole romance in her head and had never stopped to include the real him in her fantasy. She took a second glance at the boy curled up comfortably on the couch, eyes closed and oblivious to the storm raging inside of her. She resisted the urge to brush off the angel soft golden hair curling gently over his forehead. He looked so peaceful, so innocent. _'So like his father,'_ her inner voice snarled.

"Laurel," she glanced up to the crystal blue eyes she would have once sold her soul to wake up to every morning. Never had she hated the sound of her own name so much as when he said it, those puppy dog eyes always begging her to believe another lie, to throw common sense out the window and believe he was a decent human being. Never had she hated herself more for saying yes to going on their first date. How might her life be different, if she had never met Oliver Queen? Laurel took another breath, just staring at him, wondering what the hell she had ever found so irresistible that she kept coming back for more torment. Her eyes flinted to the 9-year-old boy again then back at his father.

"Laurel, I wanted to tell you first, before the news broke." Oliver tried to make his voice sound as soft and gentle as possible. He knew this had to be rough for her, but she more than anyone else had the right to know. He wouldn't have told her if he had the choice, but once the media found out about his son, or more particularly how old his son was, Laurel was going to be hounded relentlessly.

"Well thank you for the…courtesy, Oliver." Her voice was as cold and sterile as liquid nitrogen. Laurel grabbed her purse and headed for the door. Oliver reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Laurel, I'm—"

"Don't! Don't you tell me that lie, Oliver." Laurel jerked her arm from his grasp and turned to face him, almost dropping her purse in the process. She looked over to the couch to make sure the boy, William, was still sleeping. The last thing he needed in a new place was waking up to his dad arguing with some other woman. Oliver let his hand drop to his side and looked at her with his signature pout and head tilt. A year ago, hell yesterday, she would have fallen for that look of sincerity. Now, it just made her sick and mortified that she had ever believed Oliver Queen could be sorry for anything. It crossed her mind that she might be being selfish, maybe Oliver was genuinely sorry, but then she replayed every lie he had ever told her in her mind and that split second of guilt and sympathy evaporated.

"Laurel, I am sorry." He whispered. She wanted to chuck a vase at his face. She wanted to ask him what exactly he was sorry for. She wanted to ask him if he was _sorry_ for fucking her sister while they were dating, if he was _sorry_ for taking Sara on that yacht, if he was _sorry_ for coming back without Sara, if he was _sorry_ for her finding out he and Sara were dating the night after she found out her sister was alive, if he was _sorry_ that he fucked countless other girls while they were dating, or if he was _sorry_ for knocking one of them up. Laurel was almost shaking she was so angry. It would be easy to throw all the horrible thoughts she was thinking in his face, but for them to hurt him, he would have had to truly care about her in the first place.

She instantly realized that was what hurt the most: the fact that despite all she had felt for him, she couldn't hurt him, because he had never cared, let alone loved her. He had liked her because she was good for his ego, but he had never given a damn about her hopes and dreams for their future life together. But then, had she ever truly loved _him_. She had always tricked herself into believing that he would be faithful to her, but maybe hoping someone would change, even if it was for the better, wasn't truly loving all of them at all.

Laurel resisted the urge to ask if he had ever loved her; she already knew the answer. But the answer didn't really matter. She turned and walked towards the door. As her hand rested on the door knob, she turned back to look at the gorgeous apartment, the handsome boy snuggled up on the couch, and finally, Oliver himself. A bitter-sweet smile broke out on her lips. She turned back and opened the door just as Felicity was inserting her key into the lock. Laurel smiled softly at Felicity, and walked out. Finally and completely, she walked away from the fantasy life she had dreamt of building with Oliver Queen.


End file.
